


To your liking, Mignonette?

by TheMalhamBird



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Hair-pulling, Kink Discovery, M/M, Smut, mild jealousy, monchevy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:12:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7692778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMalhamBird/pseuds/TheMalhamBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its all Louis' fault. If he hadn't thought a week was long enough to forewarn his brother that the entire Royal Court was coming to Saint-Cloud, then the Chevalier wouldn't have been arguing with Phillipe and he certainly wouldn't have pulled Monsieur's hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To your liking, Mignonette?

**Author's Note:**

> Those of you responsible for this- you know who are, thank you, and keep the ideas rolling. Also, y'all owe me one ;-)

 

_“Mon Dieu!”_ The Chevalier’s shout echoed through the hallway at Saint-Cloud as drawing room’s door was shoved open and slammed in to the wall behind it. The Duc d’Orleans stormed in to the room, eyes blazing, his lover following and slamming the door shut after him. “Just tell him _no. No,_ we cannot host the court here, _no_ , a week is not long enough to prepare Saint-Cloud for a gathering of that magnitude-“

“It will have to be!” Phillipe shouted back, swinging round to face the Chevalier, his fists clenching. “My brother is coming whether you want him here or not-“

“ _You_ don’t want him here!” The Chevalier retorted. “If you did you’d be having a constructive conversation with me about how best to manage rather than standing her shouting at me after you’ve spent the whole morning snapping at everyone from the butler to the boot-boy to do something without specifying exactly what it is you want them to do!”

He glared at Phillipe, who glared straight back, eyes stormy and cheeks flushed with anger. The Chevalier exhaled and smoothed the ends of the moustache, then placed his hands on his hips. “A week is not long enough to gather the necessary supplies an influx of over a hundred people will require,” he said, making an effort to speak calmly. “We can host the King, the Queen, your lady Mother, probably around twenty nobles and their assorted ladies, servants. Saint-Cloud is not Paris or Saint-Germain-we have neither the space nor the money to house every low ranking baron and hanger on that call the Louvre there home-“

“My brother will pay, you will _find_ the space.”

“ _THERE IS NO SPACE. NOT UNLESS YOU INTEND TO HAVE THE WHOLE PACK OF THEM IN TENTS ON THE LAWN-“_

“If that’s what it takes-“

“Mignonette, it is _not feasible!”_ The Chevalier felt like banging his head against the walls in frustration. “Tell your brother it is _not feasible_ -“

“It is feasible, the King demands it to be feasible, you will make it feasible-“

_“Maria mere de-“_ The Chevalier strode forward, closing the gap between himself and Phillipe and grasped the Duc by the shoulders, shaking him. _“Listen_ to me. You know this household as well as I do and I know every inch of it, I am in charge of it. Saint-Cloud cannot-”

“I am in charge.” Phillipe interrupted icily. The Chevalier stared at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“ _I_ am in charge of Saint-Cloud, _I_ am the Duc d’Orleans, and _I_ am ordering you to ready the chateaux to receive France and her Court in a week’s time.”

The Chevalier stared at his lover, quick eyes scanning every inch of Phillipe’s face. The press of his lips, the flare of his nostrils, the muscle clenching in his jaw just below the cheekbones…the Chevalier huffed in disbelief. “You know I’m right,” he stated in amazement. Phillipe’s eyes darted to the side for a moment then met the Chevalier’s gaze again, defiant.

“Yes, you’re right, it is impossible and it would be impossible if we had had a month to prepare. That doesn’t change the fact it will happen.”

The Chevalier raised his eyes to the painted ceiling and sighed. “Tell. The King. No.” he said. “For your own sanity if not the rest us-“

“I can’t.”

“Why not!”

“Because he is the King!”

“That doesn’t make him God-“

“It does in his eyes-“

“Then disabuse him of the notion-“

“ _Just make the damn arrangements-_

_“What arrangements there is no arrangement on this earth that will make Saint-Cloud magically bigger, write back to the King-“_

_“I will not tell my brother that I am unable to-“_

_“Unable!?_ Mignonette, if this is about your pride you will be a hundred times more embarrassed to host the Court poorly than not at all-“

“It isn’t about pride!” Phillipe stamped his foot, the sharp thud vibrating through the floorboards. “It is about what is due to the King-“

“Obedience then.” The Chevalier spat the word from between his lips as if it were fruit turned sour, his lips curling. “It is about mindless obedience, doing what your brother tells you simply because it is second nature for you to be his puppet-“

His left cheek erupted in to a tingling pain as his head snapped to the side; the Chevalier scoffed. The slap had not been unexpected; Mignonette had been growing increasingly ready to fight from the moment he had read the King’s missive- the Chevalier did not intend to indulge him. It would resolve nothing, and waste time when a decision on this matter _had_ to be reached by nightfall at the latest for a messenger to be sent back to Paris and the waiting King…Besides. Phillipe’s constant submission to his brother was a point he had been longing to address for months now. The Chevalier straightened and tossed his hair.

“Feel better?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Phillipe scoffed, and sniffed, mouth pursing.

“I am not a puppet,” he said. Still, the uncertainty clouding Phillipe’s grey eyes belied the firmness with which he had made the statement. The Chevalier’s eyebrows rose higher.

“No?” he asked. “Mignonette, I know your mind, I am _dazzled_ by your brilliance every time I set eyes on you.” He grinned, tongue flicking between his teeth as Phillipe gave a small smile in return, lips quavering. He inhaled, opening his mouth to respond, but the Chevalier placed a finger over his lips. “Hush,” he told Phillipe, and continued: “when you are around your brother the brilliance fades away in to almost nothing. I watch you bite your tongue and bow your head and back in to a corner.” Every time the King entered a room, The Chevalier had to watch Phillipe folding in on himself, crumpling visibly even though nothing about his posture seemed to change…the Phillipe who waited on Louis was a mere shadow of the one the Chevalier held in his arms night after night, and his heart tore a little every time he saw it happen. “You.  You are so much more than he lets you be. If you would only-“

“Stop.” Phillipe interrupted. “Whatever you’re going to say, stop it, this isn’t helpful-“

The Chevalier huffed a sigh of exasperation. “Mignonette-“

“No, don’t _Mignonette_ me, stop this.”

“He treats you like a child!” The Chevalier cried. “When he is not dismissing you as a simpleton he treats you like a child-“

“You are mistaken-“

“I am not!”

“Louis is good to me. As good as he can be.”

“Those are two different things and you know it-“

“It’s not-“

“He dictates your every move, he controls every livre that passes through your hands. How long did you have to beg him before he would allow you to buy this, hm? This room we’re in now, how long did you have to spend at your brother’s feet before he would deign to grant you even a small slice of independence-“

“You are twisting things!” Phillipe’s slender frame trembled with suppressed fury, his face pale but for two angry blotches of colour on his cheeks, every muscle in his body taut. The Chevalier could feel his own face heating, feel his arms quiver with energy as he longed to reach out and shake Phillipe again but forced his hands to stay, clenched, by his sides. “We will write to the King and thank him for the honour-“

“It is not an honour it is an imposition, a thoughtless demand-“

“He will consider it an honour-“

“He _has_ no consideration!”

“He needs none, he is the King! It is for others to consider his wants, his needs-“

_“And what about what you need?”_ the Chevalier yelled _._ Phillipe seemed to shrink a little as he fell silent, regarding the Chevalier with a look of blank confusion. “What about what you need, Mignonette?”  The Chevalier repeated more softly. “You need Saint-Cloud as your own, your own space- you told me so yourself. It is special because you are master here. The moment the King sets foot in it you will have to defer to him. He will dislike something and demand you change it, he will like something and demand you make him a present of it.” He reached out and cupped the side of Phillipe’s face, stroking Phillipe’s cheekbone with his thumb. Phillipe turned his head slightly, pressing his lips in to the Chevalier’s palm.

“What I need doesn’t matter,” Phillipe said hollowly. “Never has. My brother orders- he is my King- I obey. We will find space for the Court, Phillipe- in the house, in the grounds, in the village- because that is what France requires of us.”

“Tell France to downsize,” the Chevalier growled, moving his hand from Phillipe’s cheek to thread his fingers through Phillipe’s hair, scratching Phillipe’s scalp gently. Phillipe huffed a smile.

“No point,” he said, matter of factly, leaning in to the Chevalier’s touch, taking the Chevalier’s free hand and lacing his slender fingers through the Chevalier’s own. “It would be as effective as a small dog suddenly refusing to walk any further- one hard tug on its lead and it will be back stumbling behind its master.”

The Chevalier leant his forehead against Phillipe’s and wrapped a lock of soft, raven hair around his hand. “Woof,” he said, and yanked Phillipe’s hair as hard as he was able, hoping to dispel the melancholia that was threatening to settle over his lover, through foolery or through a fight-

-Phillipe gasped- but it was no mock outrage or gasp of _pain._ It was the sort of gasp that escaped Monsieur’s lips when every touch the Chevalier gave him was sending frissions of pleasure through Phillipe’s body, the sort of gasp that made Phillipe’s whole body shudder, the sort of gasp that was normally followed by a _god_ or a _yes_ or a _please…_

“Mignonette,” said the Chevalier, a smirk spreading slowly across his face as Phillipe’s eyes opened and his lips gaped and a blush spread prettily across his cheeks as his eyes were filled with mortification. He relaxed his hand and wrapped his fingers around a whole fistful of Phillipe’s hair, and tugged lightly. “Do you like it when I do that?”

“I-“Phillipe’s tongue darted through his lips, dampening the seam between them as he looked at the Chevalier with wide eyes. The Chevalier’s smirk widened and he pulled down harder on the fistful of waves he had in his hand, pulling down slowly, moving his fist down the tail of hair. Phillipe’s breathing hitched, his eyes darkening almost imperceptible. “I don’t know-“

“Oh?” The Chevalier pulled his hand from Phillipe’s and slid it between Phillipe’s thighs, moving his hand up to Phillipe’s crotch and cupping the slight bulge in Phillipe’s breeches. “Shall we find out for certain?” he pushed forward, backing Phillipe towards the wall. Phillipe pushed back against him, a hand going flat to the Chevalier’s test.

“Minette and her ladies- they’ll be in her sitting room- sewing- it’s only down the corridor-“

“You think you’re going to be that loud? Promising.” Phillipe’s back hit the wall with a thud, the Chevalier’s nimble fingers already working on undoing Phillipe’s breeches as he leant forward and caught Phillipe’s lips in a biting, possessive kiss. Phillipe returned the kiss with a hunger and desperation that fuelled the heat pooling in the Chevalier’s own groin.

“Go and lock the door at least!” Phillipe gasped as they parted briefly for air, then the Chevalier was nipping at Phillipe’s lips again, and pinching strands of Phillipe’s hair together.

“You worry too much, Mignonette. The risk of being caught is half the fun.”

“But I- _god!”_ Phillipe arched his head back as the Chevalier gave his hair a short sharp tug. “God, why does that feel so good?” his hips jerked forward and the Chevalier closed the gap between them, sliding a hand down Phillipe’s breeches, rucking up Phillipe’s undershirt and taking Phillipe’s cock in his hand. Phillipe was already half-hard; a few deft strokes, another painful tug of Phillipe’s hair, and Monsieur’s head was thrown back against the wall, mouth twisting and eyes squeezed tightly shut as he struggled to contain his gasps. Phillipe’s hands were at his waist, pushing his breeches down his thighs as the Chevalier nudged at Phillipe’s ankle with his toe, urging Phillipe to move his legs apart slightly. Phillipe complied and the Chevalier rewarded him with another kiss, squeezing Phillipe’s balls and pulling a lock of Phillipe’s hair towards him. Phillipe rewarded him by allowing a noise, a cross between a gasp and a moan, to tear free from his lips, his eyes opening and his hand reaching towards the buttons of the Chevalier’s own breeches-

-just as the door opened and a voice spoke in lilting, accented French: “Husband, Monsieur Grim-“

The Madame fell silent as Phillipe and the Chevalier fell still, Phillipe’s eyes closing slowly and his head bowing. The Chevalier exhaled, slowly and loudly, then inhaled again, pivoting 180 degrees as flamboyantly as possible to face the Madame. “Yes, my dear?” he asked, eyes daring her to say anything, to pass one word of condemnation, to _make one look of disgust-_ “Is there a problem?”

To her credit, the Madame didn’t flinch. She met his gaze coolly and spoke collectedly- the Chevalier rather admired her composure; had their positions been reversed, the Chevalier would have been in the midst of a screaming fit by now- but then, he reflected, he actually cared for Phillipe-

“Monsieur Grimaud informed me that his Majesty is bringing the Court to Saint-Cloud en route to Versailles,” she said. “I came to see if my husband required my help in the preparations. Chevalier de Lorraine.”

The Chevalier gave her a brilliant smile. “Preparations are my job. I’m in charge of the household, after all. Besides, the King isn’t actually coming- it’s too infeasible, too short notice.”

Madame nodded. Once. “He wrote to tell me he intended to raise the matter of a visit some months ago,” she said casually. “I assumed he had written to his brother also, so the matter slipped my mind. It is a shame. Still. I am sure we will be summoned to see him at Versailles.”

“Minette-“Phillipe spoke suddenly from behind the Chevalier, quick and semi-pleading. He stepped around the Chevalier, stretching out a hand to his wife The Chevalier assumed Phillipe had done up his breeches, certainly he had pulled them back up- a great pity, he thought sourly as his gaze drifted towards Phillipe’s arse. Minette stepped backwards.

“Forgive the intrusion, husband,” she said. “I will leave you to your…whatever this is.” She retreated from the room, closing the door softly behind her.

The Chevalier shrugged. “Well. I’d say that was clear permission to pick right back up where we left off. Before we were so rudely interrupted.”

“I’ll write to my brother and tell him Saint-Cloud is not fit to receive the Court,” Phillipe mumbled. His shoulders hunched forward; he wrapped his arms around himself. The Chevalier stepped up to him and placed a light hand between Phillipe’s shoulder blades; Phillipe flinched.

“Mignonette?”

Phillipe turned to face the Chevalier, pulling away from his touch as he did so. “I will have to offer an alternative- I can suggest that once the Court is settled at Versailles my brother and a few of his closest companions come to Saint-Cloud for-oh, Louis will invent a reason, he always does.” His gaze flickered over the Chevalier’s face, then he turned away. “I’m sure you have other business you need to attend.”

“A tightness in my breeches which you _were_ promising to help me out with.” The Chevalier pursed his lips. “It’s no small matter,”

“It’s no very great one either,” Phillipe said with a tilt of his head and a brief smile. The Chevalier snorted.

“Go then. See if I care. Mignonette-“he added, taking Phillipe’s shoulder as the Duc made to leave. Phillipe turned back to look at him and the Chevalier leant forward and kissed him gently. Phillipe’s mouth was soft, his lips parting against the Chevalier’s and the Chevalier smiled. “I love you,” he promised, before tangling his fingers in Phillipe’s hair and combing through the strands. “We can have our fun this evening?”

Phillipe smiled. “I believe this evening I had best make amends to my lady wife,” he said. “But tonight…” he let the sentence trail off, a half promise which the Chevalier didn’t need to hear to know it would be carried out. He smiled in return.

“We can explore this… _liking_ of yours,” he said as his fingers combed free of Phillipe’s hair, “And a few other things I’d like to try, if you’re up for it of course.”

“Of course,” Phillipe replied. “And Chevalier…”

“Yes?”

Phillipe took a steadying breath, and looked him in the eye. “I love you to.”


End file.
